


get used to the wrongs i'm gonna do for you

by bevmantle



Category: Half-Life, freeman's mind
Genre: Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Pre-Canon, hmm i thiiiink thats everything, neither of those last 2 tags is coming from gordon or barney. its being directed at them, or like. not enemies but more like annoying coworkers to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28589259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevmantle/pseuds/bevmantle
Summary: Barney Calhoun wasannoying.Like a fly Gordon couldn’t swat. An itch he couldn’t scratch.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman (Freeman's Mind)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 138





	get used to the wrongs i'm gonna do for you

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this drawing](https://barneysimp.tumblr.com/post/639476611925852160/im-diseased) by six @barneysimp on tumblr!! ty so much for letting me write fic of your art ;__; everyone go follow six right now for real im serious
> 
> some stuff!
> 
> freemind is referred to as gordon and dr freeman throughout the fic! this fic is rated t for language and bc of homophobia. i think i listed all potential triggers in the tags but just in case the most significant content warnings are:
> 
> \- barney and gordon drink together (there are mentions of alcohol throughout the fic)  
> \- barney and gordon have to deal w very intense homophobia in the workplace. the f slur is used once
> 
> title is from the song [abscond by baths](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cF-1b5QcMo) :-)

Gordon gritted his teeth, very deliberately _not_ looking up from his work at the sound of the raucous laughter that meant a very particular someone was paying a visit to his lab, _again._ And causing a big distraction. _Again._ It was unprofessional—no, worse. It was _annoying._

Barney Calhoun was _annoying._ Like a fly he couldn’t swat. An itch he couldn’t scratch. And the worst part was that everyone else in the lab _loved_ him! Kleiner would even wave Barney over from across the hall to show him some dumb chain email, or to exchange stupid jokes, or to start some mindless conversation about fucking _aliens_ or some inane shit that would drag on _forever._ Gordon couldn’t fucking _stand_ it.

He’d confronted Kleiner about it, last time, only to be met with a pitying smile.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of, Gordon. Barney is just a friendly man.”

Gordon had scoffed. “I’m not fucking _jealous_ of him! What’s there to be jealous about?”

Kleiner had waved him off. “Barney works hard, and he’s easy to talk to. A lot of people appreciate his help and his company, myself included, and that’s all there is to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my lunch break.”

Gordon had been left standing there with his teeth clenched and a bad taste in his mouth. So what if people _liked_ Calhoun? He was just some fucking security guard! A nobody! Gordon was _respected,_ that’s what mattered. _Gordon_ mattered.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that Gordon was constantly being distracted in the lab—which was probably a fucking _work hazard,_ come to think of it, he worked with some dangerous shit!—Barney was starting to get to him outside of work, too, and that was _really_ the final straw. It was like Gordon couldn’t go five minutes without hearing that laugh, that _fucking_ _laugh,_ in his head. Barney never laughed at anything _he_ said—in fact, Barney hardly ever spoke directly to him.

Which...was fine. It was good, actually. Gordon didn’t want to talk to him.

One of Gordon’s labmates must have said something funny—didn’t _anyone_ besides him have actual work to do around here?—because Barney laughed again, and Gordon clenched the hand on his computer mouse so hard he heard the plastic crack. He’d had enough.

“Calhoun!” he barked out, standing up. “Can I talk to you? In the hall?”

At the center of a circle of Gordon’s coworkers, Barney blinked.

“Sure, Doc,” Barney said, an uncertain smile flashing across his face.

Gordon didn’t answer. He turned on his heel and pushed the door open, not bothering to hold it for Barney.

Once they were in the hall, Barney crossed his arms. “What’s this all about, Doc?”

“It’s _Dr. Freeman,”_ Gordon hissed. “And _this_ is about the fact that you’re causing huge problems in my lab.”

“Oh yeah?” Barney said coolly. “What sort of problems am I causing in _your_ lab? _Doctor_ Freeman.”

Gordon felt his upper lip twitch. “You’re a distraction. You’re preventing people from getting their work done and putting them in danger.”

At that, Barney snorted. “No one’s in danger,” he said. “And I haven’t had any complaints so far. Kinda seems like the only person being distracted by me is you.”

Gordon’s blood was boiling. “I am _not!”_ he snapped, voice coming out louder than he intended. 

Barney raised an eyebrow at him. Gordon scowled.

“If you have a problem with me, you can file a complaint with my department,” Barney said. “Otherwise, you and I got nothin’ to talk about. See you around, Doc.”

He left Gordon in the hallway, absolutely furious. And Gordon stayed furious for the remainder of the workday, despite Barney’s voice (and laugh) being notably absent from the regular rabble of his labmates. Gordon was furious on the tram ride back to his dorm and all through dinner. He couldn’t even focus on the book he was reading. It was too much.

“Fuck!” he shouted at no one, hurling his book (he was a quarter of the way through Frank Herbert’s _Dune)_ at the wall. The person in the adjacent dorm immediately banged on the wall in response. “Shut the fuck up!” Gordon yelled back.

Whatever. He couldn’t focus on reading? Fine. He was too worked up to sleep? He would put on a movie and try to shut his brain off for at least a few hours. He flipped the TV on, changed over to some schlocky horror channel, and turned the sound up as high as he could stand.

About an hour into the movie, there was a sharp knock at the door. It was probably his neighbor, complaining about the volume again.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Gordon shouted in the general direction of his front door. But the knocking persisted. “Jesus Christ! Fine! I’m coming,” Gordon said, muting the TV before hauling himself off the couch and swinging the door open.

“Heya, Doc,” Barney said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and holding a six-pack in the other.

Gordon stared at him. “Oh, this is just _great._ You don’t bother me enough at work, so now you have to come bother me at my dorm, too?” He noticed the six-pack. “What the fuck? Is that beer?”

“Yeah,” Barney said, shifting his weight. “Look...I think we kinda got off on the wrong foot earlier and I wanted to apologize, so...uh. Mind if I come in?”

Gordon was torn. On one hand, he was still pissed, and Barney was the last person he wanted to see. On the other hand, it’s not like things could get _worse,_ and plus, Barney had brought _beer._ So that was that. Gordon sighed, swinging the door open the rest of the way. “Okay. Fine.”

“Thanks,” Barney said, stepping over the threshold, handing the beers over to Gordon so he could kick off his shoes. Gordon admired the label, impressed. It was pretty nice beer—not too expensive, but definitely not cheap. And on a guard’s salary? This was a white flag if ever Gordon had seen one.

Gordon led Barney into the living room and gestured at him to sit down while he opened up two of the beers. Barney sat on the couch, watching the movie play out silently.

“Slumber Party Massacre?” he asked, nodding at the TV as he took one of the bottles from Gordon. “Gotta say, never really took you for the type.”

Gordon shrugged, taking a deep swig from his own bottle. “I mean, it’s a pretty notable satire of the co-ed slasher.”

Barney laughed. “Yeah, sure. And it’s got tits.”

Gordon snorted despite himself, shaking his head. He sat down on the other end of the couch. “Why’d you come here, Calhoun?”

Barney kept his eyes on the movie, not looking at Gordon. “I was gonna leave you alone,” he said eventually. “You really piss me off, you know that? Always acting like you’re too good for everyone, like you don’t care what people think of you.”

Gordon opened his mouth to protest, but Barney shot him a look, and he closed it again.

“Yeah,” Barney said. “So anyway. I ended up talking to Doc Kleiner, after. He told me—well. Mentioned that you don’t seem to have a lot of friends. So...I dunno. I figured I was a little harsh on you, besides.”

Gordon’s temper was quick to flare up. “I don’t need your pity, if that’s what this is about, and I don’t need Kleiner meddling in my life. I’m—” Gordon remembered listening in as Barney had joked around with his coworkers. Remembered making two fists and squeezing his hands till they ached. He swallowed. “I’m fine.”

“No, yeah. That came out wrong,” Barney said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not here because I pity you, Doc. I’m here ‘cause I want us to be _friends.”_

“I don’t—” _I don’t have friends,_ Gordon wanted to say, but something stopped him. He blinked. _Could_ he be friends with Barney? Barney Calhoun—some nobody guard from bumfuck nowhere, who annoyed Gordon to no end, and whose laughter was constantly playing on a loop in Gordon’s brain.

“Doc?” Barney prompted, taking a drink.

Gordon ran a hand through his hair. “You want to be friends,” he repeated. “With me.”

“Yeah,” Barney said, shrugging a little, like it really was as simple as that.

Ah, fuck it. “Okay,” Gordon said slowly. “Sure.”

Barney visibly relaxed. Then he raised his beer and clinked it against Gordon’s. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Barney quoted with a wink.

“Shut up,” Gordon said, looking away as he felt himself flush.

Barney laughed, then, and Gordon felt his flush deepen—Barney wasn’t laughing _at_ him, he was laughing _with_ him. _Because_ of him. Fuck, it felt—it felt really, really _good._ He wanted it to keep happening, and—and what the fuck? Earlier he’d been _mad_ that he couldn’t stop hearing that damn laugh, and now he felt like if he didn’t hear it again he would die. God—he had problems. Okay, whatever. He’d process that another time. For now, Gordon wanted to just enjoy the moment.

They finished the movie together, then watched another one, drinking and talking over the dialogue. They had more in common than Gordon had thought, it turned out—they liked the same kinds of movies and had read a lot of the same books, so conversation was easy. At some point, Gordon pulled out a bottle of whiskey. The more they drank, the more Barney laughed; the more Barney laughed, the more Gordon noticed his heart doing little flips each time it happened; and the more it happened, the more Gordon tried to ignore it, because it was fucking _stupid._

Eventually, though, Barney had to leave; they both had work in the morning, and so they both had to sleep. They said their goodbyes, Barney promising to bring over another movie he was _sure_ Gordon would love the next Friday. Gordon shut the door behind Barney and promptly passed out on the couch, TV still blaring.

In the morning, despite his lingering headache, Gordon felt lighter than he had in days. Weeks, even. Even missing his usual tram by a couple of seconds wasn’t enough to kill his good mood. He strutted into the lab, nodding at his coworkers. He sat down, and—was that a coffee on his desk? What the fuck? He lifted it, suspicious, and a note fluttered to the ground. He picked it up, still eyeing the gently steaming coffee.

_Thanks for last night, it was fun. Hope your hangover’s not too bad. -B_

That...was oddly touching. Gordon noticed his labmates staring at him, and he scowled, shoving the note deep into the pocket of his lab coat and taking a big gulp of coffee, promptly scalding his mouth. _Fuck!_ It was _fine._ He was fine. “Quit staring,” he snapped at no one in particular, and everyone hurried to shove their noses back into their work. Kleiner gave Gordon a beaming smile from across the room, and Gordon felt his face got hot. He did _not_ want to become fodder for some sort of weird office gossip. But okay, whatever. He could handle Kleiner, he supposed, and if anyone else said anything—well. Yeah, okay. He would deal with it.

Of course, a couple people turned to look again when Barney showed up on his lunch break to drag Gordon over to the cafeteria, but Gordon had long since perfected his “Do _not_ fuck with me” glare, and the offending coworkers just shrugged and turned around.

“Hiya, Doc,” Barney said, already chattering away about some weird problem he’d had to help Magnusson with during the earlier part of his shift. It was strange—normally, that kind of small talk pissed Gordon off to no end, but with Barney, it was different. Gordon found himself laughing at Barney’s stories, and Barney seemed genuinely interested in Gordon’s work, too. Not that Barney _understood_ it, but...well, nobody’s perfect, Gordon supposed, and it couldn’t hurt to polish his presentation skills with someone who didn’t know much about his area of research.

They were finishing their lunch and getting ready to head back to their respective jobs when Gordon spied a couple of guards across the room, looking at them and whispering to each other. “Hey,” he said, his tone making Barney look up from his food. “Any idea what the fuck that’s about?”

“Huh?” Barney followed Gordon’s line of sight, then rolled his eyes. “My idiot coworkers,” he said, and Gordon nodded, because damn if that wasn’t relatable. “Just ignore ‘em.”

Gordon looked over at the guards once more, still a little uneasy. He _hated_ people staring at him, fucking _hated_ it, especially when he could tell they were _talking_ about him, too—but if Barney said to ignore them, then fine. He would ignore them.

The next couple of weeks passed by in a similar fashion. On the days that Barney worked morning shifts, Gordon could expect to arrive at work and find a fresh cup of coffee on his desk; whenever their schedules overlapped, they would eat lunch together; on Friday evenings, Barney would show up at Gordon’s dorm to have a couple beers and watch a movie or two. It was almost idyllic. As a result, Gordon found himself being more forgiving with his labmates, feeling particularly benevolent towards Kleiner—who Gordon now understood to be leagues smarter than he had already known him to be.

No surprise, then, that Gordon’s good mood was soon ruptured.

It was mid-week, and Barney wasn’t due in until the evening shift, so Gordon was eating lunch by himself in a quiet alcove not too far from the secu break room. Gordon tried to avoid the AnMats break room whenever possible—his coworkers were always loud, and the ancient microwave was known to give off the unpleasant smell of burnt tomato sauce whenever it was used (which was, unfortunately, frequently). Gordon liked this little alcove: it was quiet, usually empty, and the few security guards that passed by generally left him alone.

This time, however, two approaching figures cast a shadow over Gordon’s vaguely dissatisfying (and, frankly, overpriced) turkey club. Gordon looked up to see the two guards that Barney typically referred to as either “those idiots” or “those fucking jackasses”, depending on his mood. Gordon had noticed the guards staring at him and Barney around Black Mesa more and more recently, but continued to ignore them at Barney’s request. Whenever Gordon tried to bring it up with him, Barney just shrugged it off, saying that they didn’t often get assigned to rounds together, so it didn’t matter to him whether they stared or not. It mattered to _Gordon,_ but he gritted his teeth and went along with it—after all, there was no reason to make Barney’s work life any harder than it already was.

“Can I help you boys with something?” Gordon asked, trying to keep his tone as even as possible.

The guards looked at each other. “Finally got you alone without your little boyfriend to protect you, huh?” one of them said.

Gordon couldn’t hold back his bark of surprised laughter. “My _boyfriend?_ What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That fag, Calhoun,” the other guard sneered.

Gordon felt his blood run cold, but he clambered slowly to his feet, careful not to show any emotion on his face. So that’s what this was about. It explained a lot, actually. And, he knew, it didn’t make any sort of difference whether he and Barney were actually together or not.

Did he want to be with Barney? Gordon...hadn’t realized that was an option.

“What do you want with me?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the first one said. “The same as we want with him. To give you a warning. Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

“My...kind,” Gordon said, tone growing icier by the minute. “You fucking _idiots_ realize you’re openly threatening me in our workplace. Where we’re under _constant fucking surveillance.”_

The guard shrugged. “You really think we’ll come away from something like this with anything more than a slap on the wrist?”

Yeah, Gordon knew. He knew all too well.

“I get it, okay?” he said, talking to try and keep them distracted. “Barney’s a big, strong guard. People like him. I’m just a poor, scrawny scientist with no friends.” He forced his muscles to relax, reaching as slowly as he could towards the knife he kept strapped to his leg in an ankle holster.

When the first guard lunged at him suddenly, Gordon dodged, sliding his knife from the holster in one swift motion and holding it under the other guard’s chin.

“Don’t _fucking_ move, either of you,” Gordon hissed. “Or haven’t you heard what people say about Gordon Freeman? You think I give a fuck about the cameras? I’ll gut you both right here like the fucking _pigs_ that you are.”

Neither guard said anything. The one in Gordon’s grip struggled a bit, but they had both clearly underestimated him: Gordon was much, much stronger than he looked.

Thank _fuck_ for HEV training.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, because I was in a _good_ _fucking_ _mood_ before you came along,” Gordon spat. “You two are going to walk away. We're all going to act like this never fucking happened. And if you ever lay a fucking _finger_ on Barney Calhoun, I will make you wish you had never been born.”

They eyed him.

“You can’t stop us from talking,” the guard who didn’t currently have a knife at his throat said, his tone sullen.

“No. I can’t,” Gordon said. “But you know what? I don’t give a fuck. People already hate me, so you can say whatever you want. Go fucking wild. But so help me, you are going to leave Calhoun alone. You got that?”

When neither guard moved, Gordon shook the one he was holding, making sure the knife pressed up very softly against his throat. “I said, _you got that?”_

They both nodded.

“Great. Good talk.” Gordon released the guard, who rubbed at his neck. Gordon waited for both of them to slink away down the hall, like dogs with their tails between their legs, before he folded his knife again and knelt to slide it neatly back into its holster. His hands were shaking, just slightly. Gordon frowned, picking up the leftover half of his sandwich and beginning the long walk back to AnMats. He was going to cash in on some well-deserved vacation days.

Gordon didn’t see Barney, or anyone else for that matter, for about a week. Barney came by Gordon’s dorm and banged on the door, but Gordon didn’t answer; after a while, Barney left. Gordon didn’t like it, but he wanted to give whatever shitstorm was brewing back at Black Mesa a chance to dissipate. Plus, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be safer for Barney to be seen without him for a couple of days.

Eventually, though, Gordon had to go back to work. He went through all the motions: get on the tram. Get off at the right stop. Swipe through the door. Gordon didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did when he got to his desk and saw a cup of steaming hot coffee waiting for him.

He’d barely sat down when Kleiner approached him.

“Gordon,” Kleiner said. “Are you...doing alright?”

“I’m fine,” Gordon said, voice clipped, wondering what—if anything—Kleiner had heard.

Kleiner reached out, putting a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. Gordon stiffened.

“I trust that whatever you did, you had good reason for doing it,” Kleiner said. “And...I hope you know that I’m in your corner, Gordon, and I’m more than willing to vouch for you if necessary. And I think—no, I _know_ —that everyone else in this lab will do the same.”

Gordon was flooded with an immense sense of gratitude for Kleiner. He really owed the old man something nice—a fruit basket, or a good bottle of alcohol. A _really_ good bottle of alcohol.

“Have you...seen Barney around?” Gordon asked, trying not to sound too invested in the answer.

Kleiner flashed him a small smile, nodding towards Gordon’s coffee. “He’s been by the lab every day, you know. Waiting for you to get back.”

Gordon grinned. Yeah, that sounded like Barney. Sentimental dumbass. God, Gordon loved him.

Oh. Huh. When had _that_ —

“I think he’s over doing repairs in the propulsions lab,” Kleiner said, interrupting Gordon’s train of thought. He checked his watch. “If you hurry, you can catch him when his break starts.”

Fuck it. Gordon was going to buy Kleiner the most expensive bottle of Scotch he could get his hands on.

“Thanks,” Gordon said, already halfway out of his chair.

Kleiner just smiled again in response and watched Gordon hurry out the door.

It wasn’t long before Gordon spotted Barney standing just outside the propulsion labs, covered in a fine layer of dust and grime from whatever he’d been working on.

Gordon cleared his throat as he approached. “Hey,” he said, playing it cool.

Barney started, looking up from the tool kit he had been packing up. “Holy shit—Gordon!”

Gordon gave him a thin smile.

Barney surged forward, grabbing Gordon and holding on tight, like he was scared Gordon would disappear again.

“I was only gone for a few days, Calhoun,” Gordon said when they had separated. “Couldn’t handle it?” His tone was light, but there was an edge to it. They both knew what he was really asking.

“Hey, uh—I’m about to go on break,” Barney said. He wiped his face off with a clean rag from his kit, then picked up the kit itself. “Walk with me?”

Gordon nodded, falling into step beside him.

Neither spoke for a while. Every so often Barney would nod at someone they passed; most of the time, the other person would nod back.

“They were both fired, you know,” Barney said, quietly, once they found themselves in an empty hall. Gordon had to strain to hear him over the ambient sound of Black Mesa: the drone of distant machinery; the hum of the air circulation; a muffled conversation from a conference room as they passed by.

“They were?” Gordon’s surprise was genuine.

Barney snorted. “Yeah. After the stink I put up? I’d be shocked if they ever got another job anywhere in this state. Must’ve forgot I hold seniority. And that people actually like me.”

Gordon laughed, maybe his first real laugh in days. His first real laugh since—well, since the last time he’d seen Barney. It wasn’t all that funny, but Gordon laughed anyway.

When he was done laughing, they fell into another companionable silence.

“Did you hear the rumor about me?” Gordon asked abruptly.

Barney looked down, suddenly very interested in the tile under his boots.

Gordon took a deep breath, forging ahead. “That I’m...gay?”

“I…” Barney looked at Gordon, then exhaled, looking away again. “Yeah. Maybe in not so nice terms, but...I heard it.”

Gordon nodded, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say next when Barney spoke up again.

“Gordon, I’m sorry,” Barney said. “You shouldn’t have had to do what you did, and because of that—because of _me,_ people are talking about you, spreading lies, and—and it’s not right.”

“Barney,” Gordon said. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! I just…” Barney struggled. “I don’t want your reputation, your work, to suffer because of—because I’m—” he broke off, either unable or unwilling to complete the sentence.

They had come to a small, tucked away break room, empty and seemingly forgotten by most of Black Mesa. Gordon guided Barney inside, and they sat down next to each other on a stained and worn-out couch that had almost certainly seen better days.

Gordon studied Barney’s face. “I don’t care that you’re gay,” he said.

Barney flinched, not making eye contact. “You don’t have to say that,” he said. “If you want to distance yourself from me, I get it.”

“No,” Gordon said, panic beginning to rise like bile at the back of his throat. “Fucking—Barney. Stop being an idiot and _listen_ to me.” He took another deep breath. “The stuff about me...it’s—it’s not a rumor.”

Barney looked up to meet Gordon’s eyes, confused. “You—huh?”

“Kleiner knew,” Gordon said, shaking his head. “He knew the whole time. Before me, even. Isn’t that fucked up?” He gave a short, almost-bitter laugh and reached out slowly, holding his hand a hair’s breadth away from Barney’s cheek, as if Barney were a horse that might spook.

Barney stared at him. He brought his own hand up to cover Gordon’s, and after a second, closed the gap and pressed Gordon’s hand against his face. Barney closed his eyes.

“I didn’t know for sure until this morning, actually,” Gordon said. “When I came in and saw the coffee on my desk. Kleiner said you’d been in every day this week.”

Barney turned his face, smiling against Gordon’s palm. “Yeah,” he said. “Spent a small fortune on coffees that no one drank. Had to swing by and throw ‘em out myself.” Barney turned his head again, opening his eyes to look at Gordon across the couch. “Gordon...kiss me?”

Gordon swallowed, nodding. He leaned in, closing the distance between them, and then they were kissing, Barney’s mouth soft under Gordon’s. Gordon brought his other hand up to cup Barney’s face. 

Gordon was breathing heavily by the time they broke apart, and Barney was no better off. “Thanks,” Gordon said between breaths.

“For the kiss?”

“No,” Gordon said. He was quiet for a minute, then said: “For talking to me. Even when I didn’t want you to.”

Barney smiled, reaching over to twirl a long strand of Gordon’s hair around his finger. “Oh, I’d do that anytime.”

“Asshole,” Gordon said. “I love you a lot, you know?”

Barney’s smile grew wider. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said. “No shit.”

Barney laughed, and there it was again, the sound that had haunted Gordon for so long. The sound that he’d wanted to hear again, even more than he wanted—more than—fuck, more than Gordon wanted anything else he could think of. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic popped into my head fully formed, i started writing it at 11am yesterday and now here i am posting it at 4am today. life comes at you fast
> 
> im [gordonsfreemind](https://gordonsfreemind.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if u wanna follow or shoot me an ask! comments n kudos are always appreciated here :-)


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